


It's your voice I hear driving me wild

by kiwiana



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Always Female Jensen, F/F, Gender or Sex Swap, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-09
Updated: 2010-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2129232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/kiwiana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danneel’s relationships with her callers only last as long as – well, as long as the callers do, really. Still, there’s something about Jen that has Danneel’s heart thumping, just slightly, every time she calls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's your voice I hear driving me wild

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Femmeslash kink meme. Title is from a 38 Special song. 
> 
> The closest I ever came to owning these characters is an iPod named Padackles. No harm, no foul, and no offence is intended by using them for my own ends.
> 
> Originally published on LiveJournal 2010-08-09.

Pretty much all Danneel’s friends hold part time jobs that they fit in around classes. With the exception of Sophia—who, for some reason unfathomable to the rest of them, became an RA this year—they all live off-campus, and therefore have rent and bills and all sorts of other things that make them miss the free ride they got when they were younger.

With the array of jobs they all have, from Sandy the Starbucks barista to Jared’s fast food gig to Misha’s… bizarrely effective selling technique at Old Navy, they have quite a range of discounts between them that they all take advantage of. Pretty much the only one of them with a job that doesn’t benefit anyone else—and really, it  _could_ , but no one’s taken her up on the offer—is Danneel’s.

See, while everyone else is slaving over fry vats and coffee machines, or wrangling with cash registers that are either older than they are or unnervingly futuristic, Danneel has, in her opinion, the best damn job she could ask for. She gets paid well, can pretty much pick her hours to suit herself, doesn’t have to wear a tacky uniform, and she can even get her school assignments done on her downtime.

There are euphemisms for what Danneel does, but she’s not ashamed of it—why should she be?—and so, when someone asks what she does, they get a matter-of-fact answer.

“I’m a phone sex operator.”

* * *

Danneel—Danni D when she’s on the clock—whirls into the Sex Kittens office just before her shift starts on Friday night. She waves hello to the receptionists—Clea has been there longer than she has, but she doesn’t recognise the other girl—before ducking into her room and shutting the door behind her.

The ‘office’ they work out of is actually a renovated house; each phone operator works out of a bedroom when they’re on shift, while the receptionists are set up in the living room. All the calls go first to the front desk, where the receptionist takes credit card details and any other information from the caller. Unless the caller requests a specific worker, the calls are all randomised between anyone whose line is free.

Danneel throws her bag onto the end of the bed before she clocks in on her phone, hooking the Bluetooth headset over her ear as she does so. Then she settles back on the pillows, pulls out her Theatre essay and waits for the calls to come in.

* * *

Even for a Friday night, it’s ridiculously busy—nothing out of the ordinary, though, which Danneel’s thankful for. She probably doesn’t get more than two minutes between calls from when she starts at 9pm until she logs her phone out to take a break a little after one. She grabs her cell phone, wallet and essay before jogging out to her car and driving down to Burger King.

When the drive-thru speaker crackles to life, it’s Jared’s voice welcoming her to the Home of the Whopper and inviting her to place her order when she’s ready. 

“Large tender grill meal: no lettuce, no tomato, add cheese, add ketchup, change to light mayo, coke no ice for the drink,” she rattles off. Jared laughs, the noise distorted through the speaker.

“You’re a freak, Sally. Drive on through.”

Danneel grins as she lets her foot off the brake. She acquired the nickname Sally the first time their group of friends went out to dinner in their freshman year—the nitpicky way she orders food reminding several of them of When Harry Met Sally—and it crops up whenever there’s food involved.

She pulls up to the window just as Jared’s opening it. She hands her debit card through the window for Jared to swipe. He could do it all himself—he knows her PIN—but he hands the machine through the window anyway.

“How’s your night going?” he asks as he pours her drink.

“Busy. And I’ve got another three hours to go.”

Jared makes a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat as someone hands him a bag of food; he opens it and dumps a handful of ketchup packets inside before passing it to Danneel through the window.

“Enjoy your disgustingly unhealthy burger!” he says cheerfully.

“Enjoy the grease seeping into your pores!” she responds, pulling away.

She parks in the car park behind her work, but doesn’t go in—instead, she eats in the car, her feet propped up on the dashboard as she scribbles a few more notes down for her essay.

When she heads back inside, breezing past reception as usual, Clea snaps her fingers to get Danneel’s attention. She turns as Clea hastily scribbles a note on a Post-It, holding it up as she continues to talk to the client on the other end of the phone.

_Want a first-timer? Girl_ , it reads. Danneel gives her a thumbs up, mouths, ‘thirty seconds’ and dashes into her room. She pops on her headset as she logs in, her hand hovering by her ear to take the call. She loves it when girls call, and she’s touted around the office as being one of the best operators for a newbie to get—which is probably why Clea offered this caller to her. 

There’s a beep in her ear signalling an incoming call, and Danneel clears her throat a couple of times before she presses the button to answer.

“Hey hon, this is Danni D, who am I talking with tonight?”

“Jen,” comes the soft response. “I, uh, haven’t really done this before.”

“Hey, no worries,” Danneel replies. “Is there anything in particular you’re after, or…?”

“Um, I hadn’t really thought that far ahead, to be honest. Sorry,” the girl offers. Danneel can almost picture her biting her lip—never mind the fact that she has  _no_  idea what Jen looks like—and the mental image is endearingly cute.

“It’s not a problem, Jen. How about I just start talking, and if you want to jump in, or steer things in another direction, or whatever you want, you just let me know, okay?”

“Sure,” Jen agrees easily. Danneel lies back on the bed, making herself comfortable.

“Okay, well, I don’t know about you, Jen, but I fucking  _love_  giving head,” she says. Jen moans softly, and Danneel knows she’s on the right track.

“I mean, most people… they give oral so they’ll  _get_  oral, you know? They’re in it for the reciprocation. But I really,  _really_  love the taste of pussy.”

Jen whimpers, the sound heated in Danneel’s ear.

“Damn, you make the best fucking noises,” Danneel whispers and for once, she actually means it. “You like the thought of me eating you out, huh? Licking you… teasing you…”

“Yeah, fuck yeah,” Jen murmurs. Danneel barely stops to think as she pops the button on her shorts, sliding a hand into her underwear. She’s so goddamned wet she can barely stand it—she doesn’t do this often at work, not like some of the girls who get themselves off practically every other call. For some unfathomable reason, though, this girl is getting her all riled up.

“Fuck, that feels good,” she says out loud.

“What?” Jen gasps. Danneel can tell she’s close, and the realisation has her stroking her clit frantically.

“My fucking hands… feeling how hot I am, listening to you… goddamn,” she murmurs. Jen lets out a muffled cry and the sound alone is enough to send Danneel over the edge, her whole body arching off the bed as she comes.

“Shit,” she whispers when she’s coherent enough to speak again.

“That was fucking awesome,” Jen replies. “Seriously, thank you.”

Danneel laughs. “Thank  _you_ , Jen. And call back any time—I mean it.”

* * *

At the end of her shift, Danneel has to make a concentrated effort to put Jen out of her mind. It’s stupid to get hung up on a client—especially one who’ll probably never call again—and besides, it’s not as though this call is the first one she’s ever masturbated to.

So, she puts the call behind her, for the most part. It was enjoyable, Jen was sweet, they both got off, and it made Danneel’s Friday night a little more interesting.

At least, that’s what she keeps telling herself. Which is why, when she picks up her phone a little after 2am on her next Friday night shift and hears a soft voice saying, “Danni D? This is Jen, you probably don’t remember me...” her heart absolutely doesn’t flutter.

Nope, not in the slightest.

“Jen! Hi, no, I definitely remember you,” Danneel’s aware that she’s babbling, but she can’t bring herself to care. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good,” Jen replies. She doesn’t sound as shy as she did the first time; she’s actually forming coherent sentences, for a start. “Is it weird that I couldn’t stop thinking about you?”

Danneel chuckles quietly. “I don’t think it’s weird at all. Do you know what you’re after tonight?”

“Will you tell me what you look like?” Jen asks. “It’s hard to visualise something when you can’t form a mental picture.”

There’s something in Jen’s voice—the utter sincerity, maybe—that stops Danneel from embellishing the way she normally does. Instead, she tells the truth, tracing her hand over each part of her body as she describes it, before asking Jen to do the same. 

She lets the description wash over her, forming an image in her head as Jen starts from the top and works her way down –  _blonde hair, just past my shoulders - it's dyed, but don't tell anyone... green eyes... tanned..._. She’s so lost in Jen’s voice that she barely notices when her fingers start stroking her clit.

“I want you to ride my face,” she blurts out. Jen stutters into silence and Danneel winces, thinking she’s gone too far, too fast, but then Jen sighs.

“God, that sounds hot,” she says, her voice low and heated. “Do you need your hands, or can I tie them to the headboard?”

“Fuck,” Danneel grits out, her hand moving faster. “Tie me up, fucking use me. Get yourself off on my face, goddamn, Jen,  _please_...”

Jen cries out before biting off the sound, as Danneel comes hard. Feeling adventurous, and just a little filthy, she brings her fingers up to her mouth and sucks her taste off them as she moans, the sound just slightly exaggerated for Jen’s benefit.

* * *

After that, it becomes a habit. Every Friday night, between one and two in the morning, Jen calls and asks for Danni D. They talk for up to twenty minutes at a time—sometimes Danneel spins out a scenario, other times they just talk about all the filthy things they want to do to each other. Jen gets braver with every call, joining in the conversation more and more. Once or twice, she even suggests something that makes Danneel blush—and she’s heard almost everything imaginable.

Danneel worries, sometimes, about the state of Jen’s credit card. She wishes there was a way for them to talk—really talk, not just get each other off—without Jen paying $1.99 a minute for the privilege. But when Jen comes, her cries muted, and thanks her for her time before hanging up? They’re the only times, in all the months Danneel’s worked for Sex Kittens, that her work has ever made her feel cheap.

* * *

Danneel’s in the coffee shop on campus waiting for her macchiato when she hears a too-familiar voice ordering a ridiculously complicated-sounding drink. She feels as though all the wind’s been knocked out of her chest as the owner of the voice turns around, and god _damn_. Danneel loves Jen’s voice—the innuendo barely hidden behind even the innocent words, the hint of a southern accent she obviously tries to conceal—but it’s got nothing on her body. Jen didn’t even begin to do herself justice the night they described themselves; she is, for lack of a better description, smoking fucking hot, and Danneel can only blame temporary insanity for what she does next. 

She hovers, sipping at her coffee, until Jen’s order is called and she slides into a booth. Danneel waits another thirty seconds before stepping up to the table.

“Mind if I sit here?” she asks. She doesn’t miss the way Jen’s head jerks up, startled, at the sound of her voice. She nods, her eyes wide, watching as Danneel slides into the seat opposite her. Danneel can tell that Jen recognises her voice, too.

“I’m Danneel,” she says, offering her hand to shake. Jen’s eyes, if possible, widen even more before she smiles hesitantly, taking Danneel’s hand in her own.

“I’m Jen. I didn’t realise… I mean, what do you study?”

They chat easily, each aware that the other knows but neither of them quite brave enough to bring it up. It’s weird, considering how shamelessly they talk on the phone, but Danneel senses it’s going to be a fine balance to bring that into the real world—that is, if they do.

They both lose track of time until Jen glances at her watch and immediately leaps up, startled.

“Shit, I am so fucking late, I’ve gotta run,” she says, panicked. She’s about to run off when Danneel wraps a hand around her wrist, holding her back.

“Jen, do you want to grab a drink or something? Off campus? Sometime?” she blurts out before she can change her mind.

“I’d love that,” Jen says, smiling. “I have class right now, but…” her smile turns into a smirk.

“I’ll call you.”


End file.
